GIFT  OF 

of      1897 


THE  BINDING  OF  THE  BEAST 
AND  OTHER    WAR  VERSE 


THE 

BINDING  OF  THE  BEAST 

AND  OTHER  WAR  VERSE 


BY 

GEORGE  STERLING 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  SUNS 
A  WINE  OF  WIZARDRY 
THE  HOUSE  OF  ORCHIDS 
BEYOND  THE  BREAKERS 

YOSEMITE 
THE  CAGED  EAGLE 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

A.  M.  ROBERTSON 

MCMXVII 


COPYRIGHT 

1917 

BY  A.  M.  ROBERTSON 


TO 

EDWARD  F.   O'DAY 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Christmas  Under  Arms  9 

The  Song  of  the  Valkyrs       -----  12 

The  Dream  of  Wilhelm  II       -----  15 

To   Germany       --------  16 

Belgium,  August,  1914     -       -       -       -       -       -  22 

England,  August,  1914     ------  23 

To  the  War-Lords      ------  24 

The  War  God     -      -  27 

The  Little  Farm-  28 

The  Binding  of  the  Beast  29 

To  Belgium  -  32 

Germany  33 
To  France    --              ------34 

The  Night  of  Man    -  35 

The  Turk     ---------  36 

To  the  Allied  Arms   -  37 

The  Crown-Prince  at  Verdun  38 

Before  Dawn  in  America       -----  39 

To  England                                                            -  40 

To  France  at  Verdun       -       -       -       -       -       -  41 

In  a  Thousand  Years       ------  42 

Germany   in   Belgium       ------  44 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Germany  on  the  Seas       ------  45 

A  Vision  of  Germania 47 

To  the  Hun 48 

War:— The   Past 49 

The  Present  -      - 50 

The  Future 51 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

One  of  the  poems  in  this  volume,  "Christmas  Under 
Arms"  was  written  in  December,  1913,  and  appeared 
in  "Beyond  the  Breakers,"  published  1914,  and  some  of 
the  other  verses  are  from  "The  Caged  Eagle,"  published 
1916. 


CHRISTMAS  UNDER  ARMS 

By  the  star  that  led  kings  to  His  feet  in  the  night  of 

His  birth, 
Put  ye  no  trust  in  kings  nor  the  mighty  ones  of  the 

earth ! 
Put  ye   no   trust   in  prayer   nor  abase  ye   unto   the 

Past— 
By  the  star  of  the  mind  alone  shall  your  sons  see  clear 

at  last! 

Who  are  we  that  we  make  us  a  feast,  or  say  of  the 
years,  "They  are  ours !" 

As  the  lost  might  revel  in  Hell  and  bind  their  fore 
heads  with  flowers? 

Wherefore  now  are  we  glad,  when  the  nations  toil  in 
their  night, 

Seeking  them  battle-music  and  engines  grievous  to 
smite  ? 

A  thousand  masters  are  ours,  and  the  weight  of  a 

thousand  chains; 
We  cease  not  this  side  death  to  seek  new  bondage  and 

pains. 


CHRISTMAS  UNDER  ARMS 


Him  that  forgeth  the  shackles,  him  we  acknowledge 

as  lord, 
And  darker  over  the  burdened  world  falls  the  shadow 

of  the  sword. 

Cannon  arraigneth  cannon,  and  fort  is  answer  to  fort; 
Death  sits  silent  and  masked  by  the  cliffs  and  dunes 

of  the  port; 
They  gird  themselves  in  the  East  to  the  day  when 

their  battleships  go  forth, 
And  there  comes  no  pause  in  the  thunder  of  the  forges 

of  war  in  the  North. 

Whither,    O    Man!    say   whither   may    the   steel-girt 

highway  lead! 
We  have  made  of  the  past  a  shambles  red  and  a  place 

where  vultures  feed. 
Nay!  must  it  ever  be  thus  with  the  hope  and  promise 

of  Life — 
Ever  the  agony,  ever  the  waste  and  the  hatred  and 

blindness  of  strife? 

Which  way  we  look  is  night,  and  the  wind  of  a  great 

unrest 
Moans  on  our  high-built  towers,  and  passes  on  to  the; 

West. 

10 


CHRISTMAS  UNDER  ARMS 


Vague  in  the  gloom  before  us  move  shadows  vastei 

than  man, 
A.nd  doubts  lay  hold  on  the  human  host  and  rumors 

trouble  our  van. 

Have  we  builded  but  for  the  flame,  and  sown  that 

Death  may  reap? 
Shall  we  give  our  morning  to  murder  and  our  noon 

to  eternal  sleep? 
Answer,  Thou  who  we  dream  dost  abide  in  the  gloom 

apart ! — 
There  is  no  answer,  O  Man!  except  in  the  silence  of 

thy  heart! 

With  thee  alone  is  the  answer,   and  the  answer   is 

"Love  and  Peace!" 
Except  the  message  be  heard,  the  bountiful  years  shall 

cease ; 
Except  the  message  be  honored,  a  curse  shall  come 

to  the  lands 
Where  thou  waitest  on  Christmas  morning  with  a 

sheathless  sword  in  thy  hands! 

December,  1915. 


11 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  VALKYRS 

Horizons  of  the  world,  what  hide  ye  from  our  sight? 
What  Fates  sing  now  from  darkness  their  ancient 

battle-song  ? 
Are  those  the  armored  Valkyrs  men  hear  across  the 

night  ? 

What  god  hath  set  the  trumpet  to  lips  austere  and 
strong  ? 

The  deeps  and  heights  are  shaken.  The  walls  of  the 

Dark 

Tremble  with  all  their  stars,  and  all  stars  reel. 
Shadows  from  outer  night  draw  closer  now  to  hark 
The  echo  of  what  thunders,   the  music  of  whose 
steel? 

Whose  is  the  war  ?    Who  first  hath  drawn  the  sword  ? 
"A  king!"  cry  the  Valkyrs,  "whose  rule  is  on  the 

race! 

Woe  to  the  many,  who  hold  one  man  their  lord, 
For    one    hath    loosed    the    tempest,    and    hid    the 
heavens'  face! 


12 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  VALKYRS 


" War's  gate  is  down,  and  Thor!   Thor  is  forth! 

He   hath   thrown   off   old   harness,   to    forge   him 

weapons  new. 
The  gaunt  guns  toll,  sounding  from  south  to  north, 

To  call  young  men  to  doom,  till  young  men  are  few. 

"The  old  men  shall  call,  and  the  young  men  shall 

hear, 

Hear  and  set  out,  who  never  shall  come  back — 
They  that  might  have  sown  in  the  spring  of  the  year, 
They   that   now    shall    reap   the   bitter   grain   and 
black. 

"The  tides  of  doom's  sea  are  mounted  unto  flood ; 
The  long  dykes  are  down,  sundered  at  one  man's 

breath. 

All  the  youth  of  Europe  shall  render  of  their  blood. 
All   the   youth   of   Europe   shall   sit   at  dice   with 
Death. 

"Ravens,  appear !  and  come,  ye  birds  of  prey, 

From  high  and  lonely  places,  for  now  is  food  for  all. 

Wolves  of  the  night,  be  early  on  your  way ! 
The  fold  is  left  open;  they  guard  another  wall. 


13 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  VALKYRS 


"Thor !    Thor  is  forth !    Hark  to  his  ocean-voice ! 

The  blood  of  the  world  makes  scarlet  his  hands. 
Thor  is  forth  upon  the  dark!     Sisters,  rejoice! 

A  king  hath  loosed  the  god  whose  sword  is  on  the 
lands!" 


14 


THE  DREAM  OF  WILHELM  II 

He,  a  colossus  towering  toward  the  spheres, 
With  tyrant  shadow  casting  triple  night 
On  Europe,  saw  with  dominating  sight 

The  great  world-caldron  seethe  with  futile  tears, 

And  heard  as  with  a  god's  commending  ears 
The  tread  of  armies  whose  resistless  might 
Should  stay  mankind's  advancement  to  the  light, 

But  throne  his  dynasty  a  thousand  years. 

Then  rose  he  from  the  conquered  globe  on  wings 
Such  as  in  vision  serve  the  will  of  kings, 
Till  gazing  from  the  violated  skies 

He  saw,  below  his  battles'  smoky  bars, 
With  flaming  France  and  Russia  for  its  eyes, 
Earth  like  a  skull  that  glared  upon  the  stars. 


15 


TO  GERMANY 


Beat  back  thy  forfeit  plow-shares  into  swords: 

It  is  not  yet,  the  far,  seraphic  dream 

Of  peace  made  beautiful  and  love  supreme. 
Now  let  the  strong,  unweariable  chords 
Of  battle  shake  to  thunder,  and  the  hordes 

Advance,  where  now  the  famished  vultures  scream. 

The  standards  gather  and  the  trumpets  gleam; 
Down  the  long  hill-side  stare  the  mounted  lords. 

Now  far  beyond  the  tumult  and  the  hate, 
The  white-clad  nurses  and  the  surgeons  wait 
The  backward  currents  of  tormented  life, 
When  on  the  waiting  silences  shall  come 
The  screams  of  men,  and,  ere  those  lips  are  dumb, 
The  searching  probe,  the  ligature  and  knife. 


16 


TO  GERMANY 


II 


Was  it  for  such,  the  brutehood  and  the  pain, 
Civilization  gave  her  holy  fire 
Unto  thy  wardship,  and  the  snowy  spire 

Of  her  august  and  most  exalted  fane? 

Are  these  the  harvests  of  her  ancient  rain 
Men  reap  at  evening  in  the  scarlet  mire, 
Or  where  the  mountain  smokes,  a  dreadful  pyre, 

Or  where  the  warship  drags  a  bloody  stain  ? 

Are  these  thy  votive  lilies  and  their  dews, 

That  now  the  outraged  stars  look  down  to  see? 
Behold  them,  where  the  cold,  prophetic  damps 
Congeal  on  youthful  brows  so  soon  to  lose 
Their  dream  of  sacrifice  to  thee — to  thee, 
Harlot  to  Murder  in  a  thousand  camps! 


17 


TO  GERMANY 


HI 

Was  it  for  this  that  loving  men  and  true 
Have  labored  in  the  darkness  and  the  light 
To  rear  the  solemn  temple  of  the  Right, 

On  Reason's  deep  foundations,  bared  anew 

Long  after  the  Caesarian  eagles  flew 

And  Rome's  last  thunder  died  upon  the  Night? 
Cuirassed,  the  cannon  menace  from  the  height; 

Armored,  the  new-born  eagles  take  the  blue. 

Wait  not  thy  lords  the  avenging,  certain  knell — 

One  with  the  captains  and  abhorrent  fames 
The  echoes  of  whose  conquests  died  in  Hell? — 

They  that  have  loosened  the  ensanguined  flood. 
And  whose  malign  and  execrable  names 
The  Seraph  of  the  Record  writes  in  blood. 


18 


TO  GERMANY 


IV 


From  gravid  trench  and  sullen  parapet, 

Profane  the  wounded  lands  with  mine  or  shell! 

Turn  thou  upon  the  world  thy  cannons'  Hell, 
Till  many  million  women's  eyes  are  wet! 
Ravage  and  slay !    Pile  up  the  eternal  debt ! 

But  when  the  fanes  of  France  and  Belgium  fell 

Another  ruin  was  on  earth  as  well, 
And  ashes  that  the  race  shall  not  forget. 

Not  by  the  devastation  of  the  guns, 

Nor  tempest-shock,  nor  steel's  subverting  edge, 
Nor  yet  the  slow  erasure  of  the  suns 

The  downfall  came,  betrayer  of  thy  trust! 
But  at  the  dissolution  of  a  pledge 

The  temple  of  thine  honor  sank  to  dust. 


19 


TO  GERMANY 


V 

Make  not  thy  prayer  to  Heaven,  lest  perchance, 
O  troubler  of  the  world,  the  heavens  hear! 
But  trust  in  Uhlan  and  in  cannoneer, 

And,  ere  the  Russian  hough  thee,  set  thy  lance 

Against  the  dear  and  blameless  breast  of  France! 
Put  on  thy  mail  tremendous  and  austere, 
And  let  the  squadrons  of  thy  wrath  appear, 

And  bid  the  standards  and  the  guns  advance! 

Those  as  an  evil  mist  shall  pass  away, 

As  once  the  Assyrian  before  the  Lord : 
Thou  standest  between  mortals  and  the  day, 

Ere  God,  grown  weary  of  thine  armored  reign, 
Lift  from  the  world  the  shadow  of  thy  sword 
And  bid  the  stars  of  morning  sing  again. 

August,  1914. 


20 


TO  GERMANY 


VI 


Beyond  all  evil  that  the  tongue  can  name, — 
Below  all  pits  wherein  we  paint  a  Hell, — 
Oh!  deep,  deep,  deep  below  the  blackest  well 

And  secular  abyss  of  human  shame, 

Rot  now  the  monstrous  relics  of  thy  fame ! 

There  worm  and  carrion-snake  may  find  a  cell; 
There  fancied  devils  might  in  common  dwell, 

And  find  their  honor  and  thine  own  the  same. 


Upon  that  charnel  which  thy  hands  have  built 
Thy  sword  has  graven  all  thy  tale  of  guilt— 
The  names  that  Time  shall  sicken  to  recall. 
Pollution  is  upon  thee  like  the  mire 
In  which  thine  armies  work  thy  dark  desire 
And  in  whose  slime  thy  sated  princes  crawl. 

October,  1917. 


21 


BELGIUM,  AUGUST,  1914 

O  Earth!    O  star  of  sorrow!    at  thy  breast 
What  vampires  have  had  sustenance  of  thee! 
From  thy  dark  womb  what  furies  have  gone  free 

And  in  thy  shadowy  lap  what  dragons  nest! 

O  beautiful  as  thou  art  all  unblest! 

From  thee  so  fair  shall  births  so  monstrous  be, 
And  in  thy  smile  must  man  forever  see 

A  hidden  hatred,  endless  and  suppressed? 

How  harmless  are  thy  serpents,  matched  with  man! 

How  gentle  are  the  wars  of  fen  or  wave, 
Beside  this  other  that  thy  children  plan! 

Across  the  dykes  of  mercy  sweeps  the  flood; 
Butcher  and  beast,  the  hordes  of  Odin  rave, 

Whom  War  hath  blinded  with  the  dust  of  blood ! 


22 


ENGLAND,  AUGUST,  1914 

Southward  again  on  ancient  roads  of  war, 
Beyond  the  Narrow  Seas  thy  legions  flow, 
Where  wait  the  battle-fields  of  long-ago, 

Ramparts  thy  lion-flag  hath  known  before, 

And  cities  where  they  crowned  thee  conqueror. 
Depart  the  youthful  ranks  that  cannot  know 
As  yet  the  power  and  malice  of  the  foe, 

But  know  what  vow  those  perjured  lips  forswore. 

Thy  war  is  for  the  sanctity  of  pledge — 
Whether  the  word  of  man  to  man  endure, 

Or  that  his  bond  be  as  a  rope  of  sand. 
Forth!  till  the  world  be  cleansed  of  sacrilege, 
And  those  antique  foundations  rest  secure 
On  which  the  pillars  of  the  Temple  stand ! 


23 


TO  THE  WAR-LORDS 

I 

Be  yours  the  doom  Isaiah's  voice  foretold, 
Lifted  on  Babylon,  O  ye  whose  hands 
Cast  the  sword's  shadow  upon  weaker  lands, 

And  for  whose  pride  a  million  hearths  grow  cold! 

Ye  reap  but  with  the  cannon,  and  do  hold 

Your  plowing  to  the  murder-god's  commands; 
And  at  your  altars  Desolation  stands, 

And  in  your  hearts  is  conquest,  as  of  old. 

The  legions  perish  and  the  warships  drown; 

The  fish  and  vulture  batten  on  the  slain; 
And  it  is  ye  whose  word  hath  shaken  down 

The  dykes  that  hold  the  chartless  sea  of  pain. 
Your  prayers  deceive  not  men,  nor  shall  a  crown 

Hide  on  the  brow  the  murder-mark  of  Cain. 


24 


TO  THE  WAR-LORDS 


II 


Now  glut  yourselves  with  conflict,  nor  refrain, 
But  let  your  famished  provinces  be  fed 
From  bursting  granaries  of  steel  and  lead! 

Decree  the  sowing  of  that  deadly  grain 

Where  the  great  war-horse,  maddened  with  his  pain, 
Stamps  on  the  mangled  living  and  the  dead, 
And  from  the  entreated  heavens  overhead 

Falls  from  a  brother's  hand  a  fiery  rain. 

Lift  not  your  voices  to  the  gentle  Christ: 
Your  god  is  of  the  shambles !    Let  the  moan 
Of  nations  be  your  psalter,  and  their  youth 
To  Moloch  and  to  Bel  be  sacrificed! 

A  world  to  which  ye  proffered  lies  alone 

Learns  now  from  Death  the  horror  of  your  truth. 


25 


TO  THE  WAR-LORDS 


III 


How  have  you  fed  your  people  upon  lies, 

And   cried    "Peace!    peace!"    and   knew    it   would 

not  be ! 
For  now  the  iron  dragons  take  the  sea, 

And  in  the  new-found  fortress  of  the  skies, 

Alert  and  fierce  a  deadly  eagle  flies. 

Ten  thousand  cannon  echo  your  decree, 
To  whose  profound  refrain  ye  bend  the  knee 

And  lift  unto  the  Lord  of  Love  your  eyes. 

This  is  Hell's  work:  why  raise  your  hands  to  Him, 
And  those  hands  mailed,  and  holding  up  the  sword  ? 

There  stands  another  altar,  stained  with  red, 
At  whose  basalt  the  infernal  seraphim 
Uplift  to  Satan,  your  conspirant  lord, 

The  blood  of  nations,  at  your  mandate  shed. 


26 


THE  WAR-GOD 

Behold  the  pandar  of  Oblivion — 

This  idiot  monster,  holding  hate  his  law! 
It  is  for  him  that  Life  must  stand  in  awe, 

For  him  that  Art  hath  cringed  and  Science  done 

Whoredom  among  the  tribes,  refusing  none. 
In  his  red  day  our  scruples  are  as  straw : 
The  nations  gather  at  his  word,  and  draw 

His  chariot,  refulgent  as  the  sun. 

The  stars  of  many  masterdoms  have  set, 
But  that  star  sets  not  ever,  and  the  light 

That  fell  on  Troy  is  cast  on  Europe  now ; 
And  as  of  old  the  mothers'  eyes  are  wet, 

And  the  brute  god,  girded  with  steel  and  night, 
Above  Time's  charnel  scowls  with  armored  brow. 


27 


THE  LITTLE  FARM 

Along  the  vague  horizon,  vapor-bound, 
A  monstrous  muttering  forever  broke, 
As  tho  the  Titans  at  their  council  spoke, 

Far  off,  or  in  some  cavern  underground ; 

But  at  the  little  farm  there  was  no  sound, 
Save  when  a  low  and  idiot  laughter  woke. 
Ashes,  till  then  a  home,  sent  up  their  smoke : 

A  raven  dozed  upon  an  eyeless  hound. 

One  laughed  whom  men  had  fettered  to  a  tree. 
Above  his  head  a  broken-hilted  knife 

Pinned  a  small  hand  that  clasped  a  bit  of  string. 
And  still  he  laughed,  nor  turned  his  gaze  to  see 
The  stripped  and  ravished  body  of  his  wife. 

A  weathered  sign  announced:     No  Trespassing. 


28 


THE  BINDING  OF  THE  BEAST 

He  plotted  in  the  den  of  his  lordship  over  men; 

He  wrought  his  grim  array  and  he  hungered  for  the 
Day. 

Then  the  loosing-word  was  spoken;  then  the  seal  of 
Hell  was  broken; 

Then  its  Princes  were  assembled  for  the  feast; 

But  against  the  Vandal  night  rose  the  star  of  Free 
dom's  light, 

And  a  world  was  called  together  for  the  binding  of 
the  Beast. 

They  have  seen  it  for  their  star;  they  have  come  from 

near  and  far; 
From  the  forges  of  the  north  go  the  men  and  young 

men  forth, 
Having  found  the  holier  duty,  found  the  true,  the  final 

beauty, 

As  their  brothers  of  the  south  and  of  the  east. 
In  the  forests  of  the  west  they  are  giving  of  their 

best, 
With  strong  hands  and  patient  for  the  binding  of  the 

Beast. 


29 


THE  BINDING  OF  THE  BEAST 


For  his  treason  unto  man  in  the  War  that  he  began, 
For  the  rapine  and  the  flame,  for  the  hissing  of  his 

name, 
Have  the  hosts  gone  up  against  him  and  with  swords 

of  judgment  fenced  him, 

With  his  coward  clutch  on  woman  and  on  priest. 
For  the  children  he  has  maimed,  for  the  maidens  he] 

has  shamed, 
The  nations  gird  their  harness  for  the  binding  of  the] 

Beast. 


Now  frothing  in  his  rage,  a  scourge  to  youth  and  age, 
Caked  with  blood  he  stands  at  bay,  with  his  feet  upon 

his  prey. 
Ringed  with  surf  of  guns  resounding,  raw  and  fetid 

from  the  hounding, 
Smiles  he  still  in  baffled  fury  and  the  roar  of  hate 

releast ; 
But  the  huntsmen  of  the  ranks,  with  their  steel  at 

breast  and  flanks, 
Give  no  truce  nor  sign  of  respite  at  the  binding  of  the 

Beast. 


30 


THE  BINDING  OF  THE  BEAST 


He  is  cunning,  he  is  strong,  and  the  war  shall  yet  be 

long, 
Where  the  seven  thunders   wake  and   the  walls  of 

Heaven  shake. 
He  is  cruel,  blind  and  ruthless;  he  is  bitter,  sly  and 

truthless ; 

By  his  will  the  Powers  of  Darkness  are  increast; 
But  the  shackle  and  the  chain  shall  avenge  the  hurt 

and  slain, 
Who  have  broken  bread  with  heroes  at  the  binding  of 

the  Beast. 

For  his  pact  with  Death  and  Hell,  let  us  bind  the 
monster  well, 

That  the  menaced  world  be  freed  from  his  arrogance 
and  greed! 

By  the  pact  he  dared  to  sever,  make  we  treaty  with 
him  never, 

Till  the  murder-venom  in  his  blood  has  ceast! 

By  his  trust  in  force  and  war,  end  we  those  forever- 
more, 

As  the  nations  sit  in  council  for  the  binding  of  the 
Beast! 


31 


TO  BELGIUM 

As  Rome  beat  down  the  kingdoms,  one  by  one, 

With  sword  invincible,  until  her  sway 

Held  from  the  rise  to  set  of  Europe's  day, 
So  to  his  war-adventure  leapt  the  Hun, 
And  as  the  Roman  wrought,  so  had  he  done, 

Were  not  thy  sons  as  lions  on  his  way. 

Granite  he  found  thee,  who  had  thought  thee  clay, 
O  nation  clothed  as  with  the  noonday  sun! 

O  barrier  to  the  tempest!    Faithful  wall 
That  held  the  armored  avalanche  a  space! 
O  little  dyke  against  so  great  a  flood! 
Thou  sentry,  whom  no  midnight  could  appall! 
Thou  Christ  of  nations,  giving  to  the  race 
That  respite  purchased  with  thy  holy  blood! 


32 


GERMANY 

As  he  who  shod  the  horses  of  the  sun, 
She  made  her  desecrated  forges  peal 
To  monstrous  births  of  cannon  and  of  keel, 

Where  fires  deliver  and  the  hammers  stun; 

And  when  the  daylight  and  the  toil  were  done, 
Upon  the  breast  of  Peace  she  set  her  heel, 
Loosing  the  headlong  avalanche  of  steel, 

With  lance  on  lance  and  gun  on  cruel  gun. 

As  Samson  in  his  blindness  hath  she  snapt 
The  pillars  of  the  temple  of  the  light, 

Drawn  down  in  ruin  upon  Europe's  head. 
To  heavens  in  the  smoke  of  conquest  wrapt 
There  cry  unheeded  voices  in  the  night, 

From  new-made  ramparts  builded  of  the  dead. 

August,  1914. 


33 


TO  FRANCE 

O  daughter  of  the  morning!  on  thy  brow 

Immortal  be  the  lilies  thou  hast  won! 

Eternal  be  thy  station  in  the  sun, 
That  shines  not  on  a  splendor  such  as  thou! 
A  strength  is  thine  beyond  the  armored  prow, 

And  past  dominion  of  the  lance  and  gun, 

Tho  now  thou  stand,  as  battle-thunders  stun, 
Heroic,  on  the  fields  that  cannon  plow. 

Triumph  be  thine,  O  beautiful  and  dear ! 

Whose  cause  is  one  with  Freedom  and  her  name. 

The  armies  of  the  night  devise  thee  wrong, 
But  on  thy  helm  the  star  of  Truth  is  clear, 
And  Truth  shall  conquer,  tho  thy  cities  flame, 
And  morning  break,  tho  now  the  night  is  strong ! 


34 


THE  NIGHT  OF  MAN 

Europe,  how  have  kings  dealt  with  thee,  and  sown 
Thine  every  acre  from  a  human  breast ! 
Red  was  the  seed  and  red  the  harrow  pressed 

To  bitter  fields  whose  harvest  was  a  moan; 

And  the  long  years  pass  on  to  the  unknown, 
And  cannon  utter  now  thy  lords'  unrest, 
Where  still  their  armies  gather  for  the  test, 

And  heavy  darkness  holds  about  the  throne. 

And  shall  they  sow  forever  in  this  wise, 

To  reap  that  corn  whose  roots  take  hold  on  Hell? 

Better  a  desert  and  the  sunlight  there, 
In  which  the  lions  gaze  with  stony  eyes 

From  nameless  ruins  where  the  lizards  dwell, 
And  the  small  hawk  floats  lonely  on  the  air. 


35 


THE  TURK 

Behold  him !  the  abominable !  the  beast ! 
The  butcher  of  the  race,  malignly  red 
With  blood  of  helpless  ones  from  heel  to  head! 

Behold  this  infamy  by  Fate  released 

On  gentler  nations  given  as  a  feast 
Where  vultures  batten  after  he  has  fed, 
And  trampled  bosoms  of  the  tortured  dead 

Pave  his  dominion  of  the  ravished  East. 

Over  the  rondure  of  the  world  a  cry 

Goes  forth  against  him,  as  Armenia's  breast 

Implores  a  hundredth  time  for  God  to  save — 
A  bleak  and  dreadful  voice  upon  the  sky 

To  North  and  South,  and  in  the  avenging  West 
An  echo  of  the  moan  that  Belgium  gave. 


36 


TO  THE  ALLIED  ARMS 

Where  children  slept,  gun  answers  unto  gun ; 

Where  peace  was  on  the  orchards,  armies  fight ; 

Now  burst,  on  vale  and  devastated  height, 
The  tides  that  raven  and  the  seas  that  stun. 
Yet  wage  ye  now  the  battles  of  the  sun 

And  with  a  holy  ray  your  flags  are  bright, 

Tho  deep  on  Europe  lies  the  two-fold  night 
Of  pain's  despair  and  death's  oblivion. 

More  clear,  more  terrible,  the  days  reveal 
What  foe  is  yours,  and  how  malignly  vast 

The  horror  and  betrayal  of  its  plan — 
That  tyranny  which  rears  its  crest  of  steel 
To  blot  the  Future's  blue,  a  shadow  cast 
By  Hell's  red  star  on  Liberty  and  Man. 


37 


THE  CROWN-PRINCE  AT  VERDUN 

By  Mars  his  hilt!  this  is  a  royal  sport, 

And  fit  amusement  for  a  king-to-be! 

Surely  the  revels  now  permitted  thee 
Excel  the  poor  diversions  of  a  court! 
Against  the  tireless  thunder  of  the  fort 

Thy  ranks  go  forth  as  waves  upon  a  sea — 

Puppets  and  pawns  that  move  at  thy  decree. 
A  merry  game,  but  mayst  thou  find  it  short! 

Or  is  it  as  a  painter  that  thy  skill 

Favors  the  world? — daubing  with  red  the  snow, 
As  on  the  mighty  canvas  of  a  hill 

Thy  cannon  spread  the  pigments,  till  the  whole 
Stands  perfect,  and  applauding  armies  know 
The  vision  of  the  Hell  that  waits  thy  soul. 


38 


BEFORE  DAWN  IN  AMERICA 

Slowly  the  hours  beyond  the  midnight  crawl. 

Far  on  the  frozen  night  a  train  goes  by. 

I  know  there  is  no  starlight  in  the  sky, 
But  that  concealing  fog  is  over  all, 
Alike  for  stars  and  men  a  somber  pall. 

Remoter  now,  a  cold,  mechanic  cry 

Is  signal,  and  the  poplars  stir  and  sigh, 
As  ranks  that  wait  in  vain  the  trumpet's  call. 

Now  breaks  the  day  on  Belgium  and  France. 
Over  the  shoulder  of  the  world,  I  know 
What  rubrics  gleam  on  the  recording  snow 

(That  page  of  Heaven's  book  that  lay  so  pure!) 
As,  votive  to  the  race's  huge  mischance, 
Men  die,  O  Liberty!  that  thou  endure. 


1916. 


39 


TO  ENGLAND 

O  mighty  Mother  of  our  heart  and  mind ! 
We,  sons  of  thine  in  vision  and  in  deed, 
Gaze  eastward,  where  our  brothers  toil  and  bleed. 

And  hear  thy  battle-music  on  the  wind. 

Behold !  we  gaze,  who  are  to  thee  as  blind, 
And  listen,  seeming  deaf  to  all  thy  need, 
But  in  our  hearts  what  ancient  Voices  plead ! 

What  clarions  echo,  calling  kind  to  kind! 

We  are  a  folk  of  many  hearths  and  hates, 
Fretted  with  alien  counsels,  and  unsure; 

Yet  some  there  be  who  know  our  war  is  one, 
And  strain  upon  the  barrier  of  our  Fates, 
And  scorn  the  coward  twilight  that  endures 
Between  our  darkness  and  thy  noonday  sun. 


1916. 


40 


TO  FRANCE  AT  VERDUN 

Glory  to  God  for  thy  might, — 

Glory  with  prayer  and  song, 
France  of  the  sword  of  light, 
Saving  a  world  from  wrong! 
Thou  who  dost  count  not  the  pain  and  the  cost, 
Music  of  cannon  is  forth  on  the  world ; 
Over  thy  borders  what  legions  are  hurled! 
Stand,  or  the  world  is  lost! 

Ramparts  of  darkness  were  thine, 

Once,  ere  democracy's  dawn — 
Dungeons  and  shackles  malign, 

Precious  to  kings  and  their  spawn; 
Those  thou  hast  crushed  with  thy  terrible  heel, 
Daughter  of  freedom,  of  justice  and  truth! 
War  shall  be  thine  in  thy  beautiful  youth — 
Never  a  new  Bastile! 

Ramparts  of  stars  and  of  sun — 
These  thou  defendest  to-day, 
Holding  the  hills  of  Verdun, 
Stronger  than  lions  at  bay. 
Thou  who  in  sorrow  dost  cry  not  "Alas!" 
Thou  who  in  battle  art  first  in  the  field, 
Stand  (for  the  hearts  of  the  world  are  thy  shield) 
Crying,  "They  shall  not  pass!" 

41 


IN  A  THOUSAND  YEARS 

What  will  they  think  of  this  age  in  a  thousand  years, 
In  the  reaping-time  of  our  sown  and  pregnant  tears? 
What  will  they  think  when  the  hands  of  War  at  last 
Fall  from  the  race's  throat  and  his  reign  is  past? — 
When,  on  the  hills  where  Verdun's  cannon  stood, 
Gaul  and  Teuton  are  one  in  brotherhood? 
You  of  the  future's  nobler  hopes  and  fears, 
What  will  you  think  of  this  age  in  a  thousand  years? 

What  will  they  think  when  the  children  toil  no  more, 
And  the  old  folk  rest  from  the  labor  long  since  o'er  ? — 
*^When  no  man's  need  is  cause  for  another's  gain, 
And  each  man's  grief  is  part  of  another's  pain? — ^ 
When  the  common  sunlight  finds  not  ever  a  thrall, 
And  the  whole  great  earth  is  home  and  heaven  for 

all? 

You  of  the  future's  nobler  hopes  and  fears, 
What  will  you  think  of  this  age  in  a  thousand  years? 


42 


IN  A  THOUSAND  YEARS 


What  will  they  think  when  the  tyrant's  brow  is  dust? 
What  will  they  think  when  the  spirit's  chains  are  rust, 
And  the  final  freedoms  lead  us  out  to  the  light 
From   the   prison-glooms   and   haunted    cells    of   the 

night  ? — 

When  the  many  creeds  are  one  in  a  wider  grace, 
And  the  many  races  blend  in  the  Royal  Race? 
You  of  the  future's  nobler  hopes  and  fears, 
What  will  you  think  of  this  age  in  a  thousand  years? 

Scorn  us  not,  for  the  fighting  strain  was  strong! 
Scorn  us  not,  for  the  ancient  dark  was  long! 
<Long  our  bleeding  feet  were  slow  on  the  path 
Up  from  the  hells  of  ignorance  and  wrath> 
You  whose  eyes  shall  see  so  freely  and  far, 
Know  that  ours  were  loyal  too  to  a  star, 
Seeing  there,  tho  blurred  with  the  doubting  tears, 
The  sun  whose  dawn  shall  surge  in  a  thousand  years. 


43 


GERMANY  IN  BELGIUM 


Mankind  had  dreamed  its  paltry  dream  of  Hell, 
And  Satan  gloating  on  a  race  undone. 
Then  through  our  mist  of  visions  drave  the  Hun, 

And  on  the  world  a  blacker  shadow  fell. 

So  shall  the  fact  deride,  the  truth  dispel, 

The  flimsy  web  that  childish  minds  have  spun, 
Till  Horror  bare  her  shambles  to  the  sun, 

And  that  be  told  we  whisper  as  we  tell. 

God,  when  we  pictured  Hell,  You  must  have  smiled. 
Look  down  and  see:  abomination  piled 
Upon  abomination!     Flood  on  flood 

Of  tears  outwrung  from  innocence  and  age! 
What  spite  of  fiends  is  in  the  Teuton  rage! 
What  venoms  of  the  Pit  are  in  their  blood! 


44 


GERMANY  IN  BELGIUM 


II 


One  after  one  the  veils  are  torn  aside, 
Till  now  we  see,  as  from  a  sunlit  place, 
That  this  is  Hell  we  fight,  and  not  a  race. 

Lo!  these  are  they  that  in  their  lust  and  pride 

Purpose  to  be  our  human  light  and  guide! 

But  these  are  they  for  whom  Man's  humbled  face 
Is  blackened  before  Heaven  with  disgrace, 

And  with  their  blazon  of  dishonor  dyed. 

Say  not  we  are  blood-brothers  to  this  Thing 
That  slays  for  very  cruelty  and  spite, 

Heaping  with  babes  his  altar  unto  Mars ! — 
This  Birth  for  which  polluted  Earth  might  swing 
With  errant  orbit  into  utter  night, 

And  hide  her  visage  from  the  sickened  stars. 


45 


GERMANY  ON  THE  SEAS 

"The  submarine  then  proceeded  to  shell  the  defense 
less  life-boats." — ANY  NEWSPAPER. 

What  monsters  of  the  mythologic  den 

Shall  match  the  horror  of  the  Hun  at  sea? 

The  frozen  blood  congeals,  then,  leaping  free, 
Goes  furious  on  its  outraged  course  again. 
This  is  the  work  of  devils,  not  of  men! 

By  this  they  do,  know  now  that  man  may  be 

Deeper  below  the  beast  than  ever  we 
Have  soared  above  the  reptiles  of  the  fen. 

They  do  this  open-eyed.     This  is  their  plan, 

Tho  all  the  world  go  sick  with  qualms  of  it. 
Such  savageries  do  men  devise  for  man, 

Conscious  and  nothing  loth,  as  tho  Hell's  slime 
Took  form  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  Pit — 
A  stench  upon  our  days  and  ways  of  Time ! 


46 


A  VISION  OF  GERMANIA 


She  took  the  sword  that  shone  at  Waterloo, 
Drawn  once  in  aid  and  service  of  the  right, 
But  tarnished  now,  that  was  awhile  so  bright, 

And  gazing  on  the  shameful  steel,  she  knew 

What  maculations  left  so  strange  a  hue — 
The  blood  of  innocence  that  dried  to  blight: 
Across  the  Gothic  vastness  of  her  night 

Far  oceanward  the  forfeit  blade  she  threw. 


Past  Verdun  and  the  long  Biscayan  dune 
It  gleamed  like  Arthur's  glaive  below  the  moon, 
And  falling,  broke  the  sea  to  foamy  chaff. 
Outward  a  swift  and  ever-lessening  wave 
Swept  moaning  from  the  dark,  dishonored  grave. 
"Sunk  without  trace!"  cried  Satan  with  a  laugh. 


47 


TO  THE  HUN 

Not  for  the  lust  of  conquest  do  we  blame 
Thy  monstrous  armies,  nor  the  blinded  rage 
That  holds  thee  traitor  to  this  gentler  age, 

Nor  yet  for  cities  given  to  the  flame; 

For  changing  Europe  finds  thy  heart  the  same 
And  as  of  old  thy  bestial  heritage. 
The  Light  is  not  for  thee.    The  war  we  wage 

Is  less  on  thee  than  on  thy  deathless  shame. 

Lo !  this  is  thy  betrayal — that  we  know, 

Gazing  on  thee,  how  far  Man's  footsteps  stray 

From  the  pure  heights  of  love  and  brotherhood,— 
How  deep  in  undelivered  night  we  go, — 
How  long  on  bitter  paths  we  shall  delay, 

Held  by  thy  bruteship  from  the  Gates  of  Good. 


48 


WAR 

THE  PAST 

In  that  abyss  what  monsters  greet  the  sight ! 
Then  were  the  fertile  leisures  of  the  sage, 
And  stony  Art  saw  then  her  Golden  Age; 

But  nation  upon  nation  in  that  night, 

With  flame  to  blast  and  savage  steel  to  smite, 
Fell  fiendlike,  drunken  with  the  battle-rage, 
And  Time's  red  arm  upholds  a  bloody  page 

Before  the  revelation  of  the  light. 

The  dreadful  heritage  is  on  us  yet: 

Rapine  and  tears  and  torment  and  despair — 
The  murder-stains  wherewith  our  hands  are  wet. 
Still  round  us  rise  the  dungeons  of  the  Past, 
The  crypt  abominable  whence  we  fare 
Slowly,  ah!  slowly  to  the  light  at  last. 


49 


WAR 

THE  PRESENT 

They  will  not  pause  for  counsel.    Deadly  wings 
Take  now  the  skies,  and  the  horizons  slay 
With  hands  invisible,  and  warships  sway 

To  billows  broken  by  their  thunderings. 

So  wrought  the  lands  where  now  the  desert  flings 
A  pall  of  sand  on  columns  that  decay; 
And  whose  the  realm  none  knows  unto  this  day, 

Nor  knows  the  Wrath  that  smote  its  cruel  kings. 

Is  this  the  wholesome  blue,  the  heavens  of  night 

Whose  eastern  star  the  wise  men  had  for  guide? 
Found  they  the  Prince  of  Peace  below  its  light? 

That  orb  hath  set.    Swift  from  its  holy  place 
With  level  wings  the  pampered  vultures  slide, 
As  morning  glimmers  on  a  dead  man's  face. 


50 


WAR 

THE   FUTURE 

Be  beautiful,  O  morning's  feet  of  gold, 

Upon  the  mountains  of  that  time  to  be! 

Be  swift,  O  dayspring  that  shall  set  us  free 
From  all  the  blinding  tyrannies  of  old ! 
Thine  are  the  years  by  seer  and  bard  foretold, 

And  thine  the  judgment  driven  as  a  sea 

On  man's  high-treason  to  humanity. 
Thine  is  the  sun  their  armies  shall  behold. 

O  ranks  that  serve  the  future  and  the  Right, 

How  fair  your  conquests  and  how  high  your  wars, 
When,  bathed  in  that  deliverance  of  light, 

Your  swords  are  lifted  against  pain  and  wrong, 
And,  ere  man's  House  be  builded  toward  the  stars, 
Ye  lay  its  deep  foundations  with  a  song! 


51 


BY  GEORGE  STERLING 

The  Caged  Eagle  and  Other  Poems 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth  $1.50 

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Poems.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth  1.25 

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Boards,  Illustrated  .75 

Ode   on   the  Opening  of  the  Panama- 
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paper    and    the    type    distributed. 

Small  4to.     Full  Hand-Made  Paper 
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The  Evanescent  City,  with  Illustrations 

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